Shadewood sandwiched between heaven and hell

The foreign words fell across his heart with a click of understanding in his tattered mind, sewing the heated and charred pieces with memories. They refreshed his grip as the haze began to fade, his memories of Gwen teaching him spanish in their fleeting moments together so far and seemingly endlessly long ago. "I would never," the gritty voice scratched out, obviously straining for water seemingly with the words spoken. There were a few other languages Cry was familiar with, but Gwen had been the only one to introduce him to the language of Spanish...the language matched her almost perfectly. The words melded together with such subtlty, so shimmery and smooth as though they were the vocal version of the woman, herself. Was she molded after the language? Or had it been crafted so perfectly after her, because of her?

Her warmed lips, her exhales into his inhales, the Empress once again brought life to this dying soldier. She would not let his duty end.

"Never."